


Rolling in the Deep

by SlytherinMafia (SoundedSummer)



Category: Gundam Wing, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: After Operation Meteor, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Explicit Language, F/M, Family Reconstruction Act, Het and Slash, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Same-Sex Marriage, Unfinished, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-06 15:25:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1108456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoundedSummer/pseuds/SlytherinMafia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter has done the impossible and defeated Voldemort, and expects to spend the rest of his life doing nothing but living life, until a long buried secret comes to life and changes everything. He finds himself in a different dimension, with an overprotective blond who seems determined to take care of him. And what's this about an arranged marriage? Things will never be the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Old Story from Fanfiction.net, Unedited. May or May not be continued

Harry paced the small room he had been placed in, his hands in his pockets and his head down.

This waiting was torture. The not knowing, the tension, was going to drive him insane he just knew it. And maybe that was their plan, when it was all said and done.

If they were going to kill him, he wished that they would hurry up and do it already.

All this, all this pain that he had caused, both on himself and those around him, wasn't even his fault. It wasn't even something he could control. It was all because his mother had tried to ease his father's grief.

And her own guilt.

He shook his head, correcting his thoughts mentally. He had to get those words out of his head.

They weren't his mother, and father. They never had been. They were Harry Potter's mother and father.

And he wasn't Harry Potter, not anymore.

All he was was a nameless soul inhabiting what was once Harry Potter's body. Just a corpse that should have been dead and rotting in the ground.

The boy that should have been Harry shivered and wrapped his arms tighter around himself.

If only he had let it go.

If only he had laughed it and chalked it up as a secret that wasn't his to know, just moved on.

But No, he was the Boy Who Lived, the Boy Who Defeated Voldemort. It was his right, his privilege, to know everything and anything that went on in their heads. After all, he was the one who had faced certain death every year to protect them, the one who had lost everything he knew before he even had a chance to remember it, just because a crazy Professor had made a prophecy. What was wanting to know a secret against all that he was owed. Especially one that concerned him.

He scoffed at himself now.

He was such a fool, an arrogant fool. At twenty, most people got over their urge to think they were the center of the Universe, they moved on to think that maybe they weren't, maybe there were things bigger in the world than one teeny person. In the wizarding world anyway.

Harry never had...until it was too late.

The Boy Once Called Harry sank down onto the lone bench in the small room, leaning his arms on his knees and hanging his head in his hands, trying to breath and keep himself from panicking more than he already was, wishing, and not for the first time, that he had Hermione's Time Turner, to go back and fix his mistake.

But he didn't, it had been destroyed after third year, and he would have to live with his mistakes.

For how ever much longer he lived.

_Flashback_

_Harry laughed and drank down another shot of Odgen's Best, watching as Sirius did the same. That Animagus looked a little shaky, even sitting firmly in a chair done in bright Gryffindor Red and Gold, and Harry couldn't help but feel smug._

_"Why Paddy, you've gotten soft!" Remus plopped down beside his school friend and smacked him on the shoulder, his own eyes bright with joy and not a small bit of Alcohol. "Letting the Pup drink you down? What happened to the man who could out drink the whole of Gryffindor House?"_

_Sirius frowned at the werewolf, sticking out his tongue as Remus laughed._

_"I have not gotten soft, Moony" He reached for another shot, his hand wavering slightly. "The very idea is absurd! You just forgot the one person who could drink me under the table without getting the slightest bit tipsy" He gave Harry a disgruntled look as Harry took another shot, barely blinking as the alcohol burned its way down his throat._

_"Yet another thing I'm like my father in. Not just the flying talent." He gave a salute with his glass to his parents memory. He didn't question who they were comparing him to. After all, in the eight years he'd been a part of the Wizarding World, there was only one person that they were always telling him he was like._

_He was therefore shocked when his Godfather and Honorary Uncle got gave him large, drunken grins, and shook their heads at him._

_"No, Prongslet, Not Jamie Boy. Lily." Harry felt his jaw drop. His mother? The picture they had always painted of Lily, the picture that everyone painted of Lily, was that of a Saint similar to that of the Virgin Mary._

_Well, except for when she wasn't, but the point was still the same._

_He just couldn't imagine the Lily Evans he had always been told about drinking Sirius Black, Head Hedonist of Hogwarts, under the table._

_"Huh?" Remus and Sirius broke into howls of laughter at the look Harry's face, leaning on each other for support. Harry frowned, not thinking that he looked quite that ridiculous, but that just made the two of them laugh harder._

_Harry pouted, and pouted more, until Remus finally gained enough control over himself again, to wipe his eyes and explain, snickers escaping him every few words._

_"Can't believe it Harry?" Harry shook his head, still pouting slightly, his drink in his hand. By the look of the hyperventilating with laughter Sirius, their drinking game was going to be put on hold for an indefinite length of time. "I suppose we have given you a rather...innocent view of Lils. But its true. Lily and Sirius had infamous drinking contests at least twice a month, from fifth year on, and sometimes they played rather dirty." An evil look crossed his face, and he slanted his eyes towards the still howling Sirius, oblivious to the dirt that his Godson was about to be given. "I'll never forget the time that Lily slipped a potion into Sirius' drink, never knew how he didn't see it, it turned the stuff bright green, and turned his..." Sirius shot up, Remus's words finally getting through to him, and slapped a hand over the wolf's mouth, cutting off any dirt that his Godson might have gained from the story._

_"Now Now Mooney old pal, Harrykins doesn't need to hear that story." His face was bright red, Harry wasn't sure it was from the remembered story or because he had laughed hard enough to burst a blood vessal or seven. "Point is, Harry" He looked over at his godson, eyes slightly clearer but still drunk as a skunk, "Lily wasn't as nice as we've told you. She had a bad streak in her." Sirius grinned fondly. "When your dad won her over, she was a brilliant addition to the Maruaders, though not as cruel as we preferred." Over the last year, Sirius had accepted that the Maruaders were not the Saints that he had liked to proclaim them, but he still hadn't apologized for anything. Knowing Sirius, he wouldn't._

_He wore it more like a badge of honor, to never apologize for things in the past, saying that words wouldn't make anything he'd done better, so he wasn't going to waste the air._

_"If she didn't, she never would have attempted it and we never would have had you back."_

_It was a soft mumble, a drunken ramble that Harry wouldn't have paid any attention to if it wasn't for the way Remus snapped his head over to look at Sirius, who seemed to have no idea what he'd said, and he kept talking, despite the wild mumblings of the werewolf who's mouth he still controlled._

_Harry leaned forward, unsure as to what he was talking about, but knowing that it was something to do with him, some secret that they'd never meant to tell him, and in Sirius' current state, all he had to do to find out what it was, was push. Just a little nudge._

_The Grimm was nothing if not a drama hound, pun intended. And loved to talk about the past glory days._

_"Wouldn't do what, Sirius? I'm sure its not something the Great Padfoot wouldn't have attempted as well." Sirius got a dark look on his face, at odds with his normal, almost bubbly personality, and Harry sat back in his seat a little. That wasn't a look that he wanted to see again, it made the shared blood between Sirius and the Bitch Bellatrix that much easier to see._

_"I wouldn't have done it, not matter how much I love you Pronglset, I wouldn't have done that. A spell like that, there are prices higher than you should be willing to pay. It marks your soul, and you have to pay for it, sooner or later." The sounds of the room around them faded into the background of Harry's mind, and all there was was Sirius and Himself._

_And the Secret. The Secret that held more importance now to Harry than any other secret ever had. Even the Prophecy._

_"Do What, Sirius?" Harry's voice changed without his conscious thought, became more commanding this time, the voice of the General, the War Leader, the voice of the Defeater of Voldemort. Sirius blinked at him, seeming to not believe that his Godson would command him like he had commanded their troops on the battlefield. Remus had fallen into silence, Sirius letting his hand fall from his friends mouth, and the werewolf wore a resigned look. He knew something was about to happen, something that would have more far reaching consequences than any in the room knew._

_He didn't want to tell Harry, and he knew that if Sirius was in his right frame of mind he wouldn't say anything either, but Sirius wasn't, and now Harry knew there was something they hadn't told him, and he wasn't going to let that go._

_There was no choice now._

_He just hoped that the consequences weren't as bad as they could be._

_As bad as they could be if the ministry found out, that is._

_Remus had no doubt that Harry was going to think differently about all of them once he found out the truth, the truth they had been hiding from him at all costs._

_Sirius took a deep breath, and looked Harry in the eye, a hard thing to do now, ignorant of Remus's inner musings. Even at Twenty, Harry had seen more than the oldest wizards in their society, and it was quiet a feat to be able to stare him in the eye for even two minutes, let alone long enough to have a conversation with him._

_Especially knowing what he knew, and knowing what he had done._

_But Sirius did it. He wasn't going to back down now._

_"You were just a tot, Harry, just learning to walk around without having your Mum and Dad there with you. Lily had taken you outside for some fresh air, to let you look around while your dad was at work, to help you get the feel of the place. You loved being outside, and the wards, she thought the wards would protect you. You were Potter blood, after all." He gave Harry the saddest look he had ever given him, even after he escaped from Azkaban. "There was a sound, a dog that your mum thought was me, she...she turned her back from only a second. But that was all it took. You'd toddled to the edge of the hill that Potter Manor was built on, she didn't realize how close you were, and you...you fell, all the way to the bottom. By the time she got to you, it was too late." Sirius took a gulp of Odgens again, forgoing the glass for chugging from the bottle itself. "You were dead, Just a baby, and dead because Lily didn't pay attention."_

_Harry's blood ran cold._

_What?_

_He sat back in his seat, and oped that what he thought was happening really wasn't._

_It was the alcohol, he wasn't really hearing this._

_"None of us blamed her, of course. Potter manor was known for playing tricks on those not of its blood, even wives and husbands who married in. In all honesty, she probably didn't see the hill, probably always thought it was straight ground on that side of the manor." Sirius had misinterpreted his look, of course, he almost always did, unless it was in a battle situation. Then he was on of the most intuitive duelers Harry had ever seen. "But she took it hard, blaming herself and drinking every day. James," Sirius frowned, tears in his eyes at the thought of his best mate suffering like he did, "James was inconsolable. He sat in your room, crying to himself, every day. He wouldn't talk to us, wouldn't talk to Lily. He was wasting away." Another gulp. "Lily finally couldn't take it anymore. She was going to bring you back, if not for her sake than for James. None of us had any doubts that James wouldn't' last much longer. He was falling apart, his grief eating away at him like a disease. So, Lily brought you back." Harry heard a roaring in his ears, and his blood seemed to be turning to ice in his veins._

_He died?_

_He couldn't have died,not by falling down a hill. His magic would have saved him, Potter Manor would have saved him. He'd been to the house, and the wards wouldn't even let him get a paper cut, never mind falling down a hill to his death for Merlin's sake._

_Sirius had to be mistaken._

_Besides, there was no spell to bring back the dead, everyone had explained that from the moment he stepped into the Wizarding World._

_Its why they couldn't bring back his parents, or bring back Cedric...Harry forced his mind away from Cedric. That was one wound that would never heal._

_And how could it? He'd loved the other boy with everything in him, even if he would never have admitted it. The Savior of the Wizarding World was not supposed to be Homosexual, it wasn't in the cards of their picture perfect version of the Savior._

_But magic couldn't bring back the dead. He was alive, therefore, he couldn't have been dead._

_"How'd she do it?" Here's where he would poke a hole in their prank, call them from the cruel jokesters they were, and everything would go back to being normal._

_But Sirius shook his head, a deathly afraid look in his eyes._

_A look that not even Azkaban and the Dementors had put there._

_"I'm not going to tell you that Harry. Even knowing the spell can get you a life sentence in Azkaban." He shivered at the mention of the prison. "Its worse than the Unforgivables." He took a long gulp Whiskey again, draining half of what was left...not that that was much. "And if anyone." Harry read the ministry. "Found out that was spell was cast on you, I don't even want to think of what'd they'd do." He leaned back, and Harry did the same, the joy gone from the evening. "Better to just be thankful she did it and move on."_

_Small talk filled the rest of the evening for the trio, strained and lifeless, but they put on a front of being alright.._

_None of them noticed that the Minister was standing in the shadows behind the couch, at first waiting on his chance to speak to the Boy Who Lived, and now nearly shaking with glee._

_Harry Potter would never threaten his command of the Wizarding World Again._

_~*~End Flashback~*~_

Harry had woken up the next morning at the wand point of three Aurors, men he had commanded and celebrated with only days before, with the worst hangover he'd had since Fred and Angelina's wedding.

He'd been forced to the Ministry, put through enough tests for him to pity Lab Rats, and then Fudge had gleefully proclaimed him an interloper and a product of the Maxius Mortis spell, the darkest spell in the Wizarding community, punishable by permanent exile.

Why it was exile and not death, Harry had no idea. He didn't like the sound of either one.

He also didn't like that he'd found himself in this small cell, friendless, wandless, and in his estimation about to be lifeless

How they were going to exile him, he had no idea.

All because his mother couldn't stand his father in pain, and because Cornelius Fudge was a power hungry toady who thought Harry wanted his job.

The door at the other end of the small room creaked open slowly, grinding against the stone it rested upon and Harry winced. The Auror, wand pointed at him even though his prisoner was unarmed and incapable of preforming the slightest bit of magic, motioned sharply and Harry stood up, moving against the wall and waiting for the Auror to attach the magic dampening handcuffs around his wrists.

Apparently Fudge wasn't taking any chances with the Once-Saviour-of-The-Wizarding-World. He hadn't thought that one up, it was splashed across the headlines every day. Yet another product of Rita Skeeter, now first editor of the Daily Prophet.

"Move." Harry rolled his eyes. Great conversationalists these Aurors. He did as instructed however, knowing from recent, painful experience that they weren't above using physical force to make him comply. They may not use Dark Magic, but they weren't lily white either. Dark magic wasn't the only thing that hurt like hell.

They walked down a stone hallway that Harry didn't recognize, heading deeper and deeper into the ministry, and every click of their heels against the stone made Harry's heart beat harder and faster.

This was it. They were marching him to his death. Exile, death, it was all the same, and Harry doubted they were going to exile him if they were still in the ministry.

No, Death was way more likely.

The Auror escorted him to a plain wooden door, pushed him through it with the wand in the middle of Harry's back, and then closed the door when Harry was on the other side.

He pointedly didn't come in, didn't even step towards the threshold.

Harry moved forward. He was a Gryffindor, magic or not, and he wasn't going to face his fate standing in the shadows of a door.

He would go out bravely.

It was the last thing he had, after all, his courage.

He made his way down stone steps, keeping his balance with difficulty and long practice. Having his hands tied together in front of him threw his balance into question, but he would not fall flat on his face.

He wouldn't give the figure he saw standing at the bottom of the steps the satisfaction.

Fudge was waiting for him, standing with his hands behind his back in front of a structure that Harry couldn't' make out, but that filled him with fear. He had a big smile plastered over his face, as if he was giving away a thousand Galleons, not sending someone to their doom.

Fudge always was a twisted bastard.

"Harry my boy!" Harry blinked at the pleasant greeting. "I bet you're excited, aren't you?"

Harry blinked again. What the bloody hell was going on here? Of course he wasn't excited, for Merlin's sake, he was going to die! Anyone who was excited about that deserved psychological treatment!

He told the man as much.

"Fudge you are being even stupider than normal." Harry was past being polite. Way Past. He didn't like Fudge, and he wasn't going to die with the man thinking they were buddies. Or whatever the man thought.

"Now Harry." Fudge didn't even blink at the comment, the grin staying on his face. He was getting rid of his competition, of course he had something to smile about. "No need to be unpleasant about this. You're going home, after all. Who wouldn't want that."

Huh?

Harry blinked, something he had done a lot in the last few days.

If he was going home, then why in the name of Merlin was he still here?

If he was going home, why had his wand and personal items not been returned to him?

Why was he still handcuffed?

"Huh?" He blinked at the Minister, who just grinned wider and waved a hand at the structure next to him, waving his wand with his left. Lights came on in the room, illuminating more than just the Minister, and Harry almost took a step back.

What was that?

The structure next to the minister was revealed to be a stone arch way in the middle of the room, a tattered black veil attached to the middle.

Whispers were coming from the arch, the fabric blowing in an unseen wind.

Harry ignored his courage, and took a step back.

Then another three.

Whatever that thing was, it wanted him, and he knew that without a doubt, he did NOT want to touch it.

Or be on the same continent as it.

Fudge never stopped grinning.

"You're going home." He repeated. "Oh, not here of course." He must have been smart enough to read Harry's face correctly, or even he knew how stupid he seemed. "This plane isn't your home." He smiled again. "I'm not sure which one is, to be honest, the spell wouldn't tell us that, but I'm sure you'll be much happier there among your own people by any rate."

And not my voters went unspoken, but well understood.

Harry backed up another step. He was happy on this plane, thank you very much.

He'd like to stay that way too.

"No Thank you minister. I appreciate the offer, but I think I'm better off staying where I am." He backed up yet another step, back and up onto a stone step. It gave him an advantage, but he didn't like the malicious grin that settled onto Fudge's face.

So much for his Gryffindor Bravery.

Fudge just smiled and pulled out his wand, shaking his head.

"I'm afraid Harry, that you don't really have a choice in the matter. You don't' belong here, you don't fit in here. Its time for you to stop plaguing us with your presence." He waved his wand and began to speak, intricate ruin tracing themselves into the air. The veil behind him began to wave with more ferocity, as if it sensed its prey was near and almost weak enough to be taken.

Harry tried to move, tried to back up another step, but found himself completely unable to. He looked down, groaning.

His feet were stuck to a glowing stone. A glowing ritual stone.

He was trapped, and it was all because he'd tried to run.

His Slytherin side always gave him trouble in the end.

He began to sweat as Fudge's voice got louder and more commanding, magic swirling in the air around them. Harry realized that, despite the disparaging marks and idiotic things they'd said about the man over the years, Fudge was not magically incompetent. He may be weak in many ways, but magically wasn't one of them. He may not be the most intelligent being on the planet, or the bravest by means on any scale, but when one had power, you didn't need the others.

And Fudge certainly had magical power. In spades, if the strength of the spell currently being performed was anything to go by.

And Harry was going to die.

He closed his eyes, thinking of all the people he hoped would miss him, or at least mourn him a little when he was gone, when a voice he never dreamed he'd hear again echoed through the stone chamber.

"CORNELIUS!"

Dumbledore was angrier than Harry'd ever heard it, angrier than he was when the Dementors flooded onto the field during fourth year, but none of that mattered to Harry at the moment. He just grinned at the sound of the Headmaster's voice.

He was saved, he was going to live.

And the first thing he was going to do when he got off this stone was hit Fudge in the face. Hard. Very, very Hard.

"Ah Dumbledore, so nice of you to join us." Fudge paused, the spell waiting patiently in the air like a dog on a leash. Harry had no doubts that if let go, this dog would bite, and bite hard.

Cujo, a movie that he and Dudley had actually watched together a few summers ago, came to mind.

"You're just in time to give your pupil a fond farewell, in fact." He grinned evilly, and swished his wand through the air. The spell snapped back into action, complete and unleashed. It headed towards Harry, a whirling vortex of Silver and Gold, and all he could do was brace for the impact, placing his hands in front of his face to shield himself as much as he could.

"NO!" The spell hit him just as Dumbledore's denial washed through the air, and Harry felt himself lifted off his feet and tugged fast towards the veil. He turned his head, reaching out for anything that could help slow his movement, and caught a sight of the abject fear and sorrow on the Headmaster's face because he entered the veil and his world went black.

Albus Dumbledore stared in shock as the body of Harry Potter tumbled out the other side of the veil. It lay there motionless, lifeless, for a few moments, before nature stepped in to do what it was slated to do years before. The body began to deteriorate, faster and faster, until there was nothing left but a pile of gray colored dust.

The headmaster felt older than he'd ever felt as he stared at the pile of ash, a tear rolling out of one eye.

He couldn't believe it, this was not supposed to have happened. Harry was finally supposed to have had a normal life, the life he should have had from the very beginning, the life he had always wanted. Out of the spotlight, free of conflict and pain.

If only Dumbledore himself had been stronger, had been able to withstand the curse that had kept him unconscious in the hospital wing until minutes before he'd arrived there. He could have stopped this mess, could have kept Fudge from making the worst mistake of his life, and his career.

But it was too late now.

The Boy Who Defeated Voldemort was dead, and this time there was no coming back.

Dumbledore would make sure that Fudge paid for that, if it was the last thing he did.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry came to consciousness violently, pain racking every cell in his body. It felt like fire was burning through his veins. He tried to scream, tried to thrash, but the only thing that he took in was dirt.

Dirt that he was surround in, buried in.

He was buried alive.

Harry began to panic.

Was this Fudge's master plan? Scare him with a spell and then bury him alive while he was unconscious?

It didn't matter. He was quickly losing air and if he wanted to live beyond this insane plan of the Minister, he would have to conserve his air and get out of this grave, NOW.

He began fighting, clawing at the dirt around him. He wasn't going to last long, he knew that, but the knowledge only made him fight harder to reach the surface. He wasn't going to die, not like this, not without trying.

He kept fighting, dirt giving way inch by painful inch, as he felt his air diminishing. He was struggling for every breath now, and he was sure he had swallowed half the dirt that made up his grave, but he was close to the surface. He had to be.

His fingers broke the surface, his hand following halfway, and he could feel the air caressing them as his world began to dim.

At least he could feel freedom while he died, if not partake of it.

His world was beginning to white out, his lungs gasping for air and receiving nothing but earth, when he felt another hand take hold of his and pull.

Hard.

He had no strength left to help his rescuer, the Savior of the Savior, and gladly let his eyes close.

Doing so caused him to miss the shocked blue eyes the scanned over his form as he was pulled completely free of the grave, dirt clinging to the uniform and blond hair of his rescuer, and the word that hit the air almost in a prayer.

"Alexander"


	2. Chapter 2

"Cornelius Fudge." Albus Dumbledore tried to keep his voice level, reigning his emotion in as best he could as the others on the bench shifted around him, discontent murmurs filling the air, but failed and was forced to trail off, choking on his rage.

The Former Minister of Magic, looking smaller and frailer now that he ever had. But his magic still rose tightly leashed around him, and Albus was not oblivious enough to not see that magic swaying people in the crowd. He was disheartened to see that Power still lured, he just hoped it didn't lead the world he loved down the same path that led to Grindlewald and Voldemort, yet again.

He wasn't sure there would be a savior willing to help next time, not after how young Harry had been treated.

"Cornelius Fudge." He tried again to control himself and get through this trial, before he put his plan in motion. This was the last good deed he could do for this world, even if they wouldn't appreciate his actions later. "You have been stripped of your positions and property for your actions, or lack there off, during the War, and brought before this court to answer for one final crime." Dumbledore stood up, leaning on the desk in front of him and looming down over the short man, who only held his head as high as he could and stared straight forward. "Without sanction or permission by either this governing body, or the International Confederation of Wizards, in a gross misuse of your authority and the trust placed in you by the citizens of Wizarding Britain. Harry James Potter, one of said citizens, was unjustly and illegally a victim of an ancient rite, a death sentence for a crime he was not responsible for. Do you have anything to say in your defense before your sentence is handed down?"

Cornelius just gave him a smile, shaking his head side to side, a small smirk on his face, before speaking slowly, proudly.

"I need no defense. I eradicated a major threat to our nation, our world's, security, while giving a family back their child that was pulled away from them so tragically. I should be praised, not punished." He stared around the room, before glaring up at Dumbledore with all the righteousness of a martyr, totally convinced in his actions, and Albus could only shake his head. No remorse, even now, and that made his decision so much easier.

There was nothing left to save here, and nothing left to keep him here.

"Very well. For your crimes against a citizen of the Commonwealth of Magical Britain, you are hereby sentenced to having your wand confiscated, and exiled from all magical communities of Europe and America, until such time as you appreciate the rules and laws of said communities. You will undergo treatment from a qualified Mind Healer to be assigned by Saint Mungos, until such time as your mental competency can be determined."

It was a lax and frivolous sentence, and would do nothing to fix the problems in Fudge's thinking. The Mind Healers at Saint Mungos were notoriously corrupt, and there were still plenty of wizards in the community who would like to see Fudge restored to his former position that would not mind greasing a few palms as the muggles said to see that he was.

By the smirk on Fudge's face, and the not so subtle nod he gave to Dolce Zabini as the Aurors walked him from the hall, it would be a mere few months, if not weeks, before Fudge was running for Minister again.

"This Court is dismissed." Dumbledore stood and walked hurriedly from the hall, forgoing his normal tradition of staying and chatting with his fellow Wizengamot members, dodging the few that were brave enough to try and approach him.

Now was the best time for his plan to succeed, while everyone was busy with the niceties and threats after a trial.

"Albus, everything is ready to go." Remus Lupin stepped to his side as the Headmaster came out of the officials entrance, a small rucksack thrown over his shoulder and a small case held tightly under his left arm. He was tired and haggard looking, dark circles under his eyes speaking of too many nights spent awake and worrying.

It wasn't just for himself, that Albus was going through with this. Remus, out of all the Marauders, had been forced to give up too much. Albus was not going to let him give up the last thing that tied him to his friends.

"Thank you, Remus." Albus laid his hand on the younger mans shoulder, squeezing tightly, before turning down a left corridor and hurrying along, his speed belaying his age

"Aren't we taking the elevator?" was Remus' only question as they passed by the gold lift, Dumbledore not even glancing at it. Remus had only been in the Ministry a hand full of times before, and didn't know that there were little used staircases that would take you to the same places as the lift, with only a few passwords required.

Dumbledore was...gifted enough, to know them all.

"No. Taking the lifts would be noticed, would give others a chance to follow us. We cannot be found out until its too late for them to stop us. Trust me Remus." The aged headmaster looked over his shoulder, his blue eyes serious and void of thier twinkle. Since Harry, and then Sirius, were taken so unjustly from them, it had been absent. "If there was ever a time for you to trust me, its now."

Remus just kept walking, needing nothing else. If Albus said it, it was true. Remus would follow the Headmaster into death if that was what was asked of him. He had nothing else to live for, anyway.

They walked in silence, down further and further into the bowels of the Ministry, before Dumbledore stopped in front of a large, stone door. It was unadorned, unlike the past four they'd gone through, and Albus pulled out his wand as he stepped towards it, incanting a spell under his breath that even Remus' sensitive ears couldn't pick up, and the doors swung open slowly, revealing a circular room.

"Hurry." Dumbledore did not put his wand away, and Remus grabbed his own, following his mentor into the room and towards the stone arch and tattered veil standing at the center. Remus could feel his wolf's longing to follow his pup, and the only surviving member of his pack, and he held onto his baser instincts with everything he could.

'Cub. Pack. Protect.' Repeated over and over again in his head, his wolf heading more and more towards insanity the longer it was away from pack, and Remus wasn't sure how much longer he could keep fighting, his own yearning to be with the only family he knew getting stronger by the day.

They stepped onto the dais the veil stood on, Remus steadfastly refusing to look over at the stone still painted red with ruins, or the spot where Harry's...ashes, had lain before they were interred with his parents.

'He's alive. He's alive, and we're going to him.' The werewolf just growled loudly, Remus clamping down on his jaws to keep from vocalizing the sound. Albus just gave him a sympathetic look and raised his wand again, the words of the ritual sounding like broken glass falling from his lips. Remus readied himself, Harry the only thought on his mind, when a figure stepped out from the shadows on the other side of the Veil, the wand in its hand spinning like a child's pinwheel

"Good Afternoon, Gentlemen. I have a proposition for you."

Lucius Malfoy smiled.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Zechs, its been five days." Zechs didn't turn around, ignoring the hand that Noin placed on his arm, trying to turn him to face her. He couldn't make himself look away from the still figure lying on the hospital bed, hooked up to more monitors and lines than the Lightening count had ever seen. He still hadn't woken up, and the Doctors were beginning to worry about brain damage.

"Zechs!" Zechs blinked and turned his head slowly, a hand coming up to absently push back the hair that was falling in front of his face, greasy from days of going unwashed. Zechs knew that he was quickly becoming obsessed, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. Finding this boy, that no one seemed to know or even heard of, in the grave of his very first failure, had struck a nerve in him. Zechs was determined to do right by him, at least until his family could be found.

The boy didn't even have a name, the nursing staff calling him a variety of pet names, Emerald being the main one, due to the astonishing color of his eyes. Zechs had only seen them for a split second while prying him from his dirt filled prison. 

Zechs himself refused to refer to him as anything, the sacrilege of calling him Alexander still ringing in his ears. It wasn't Alexander, couldn't be Alexander who was long dead, just a cruel prank and an attempted murder.

Zechs was looking forward to finding those responsible, and wasn't sure that he could keep himself from delivering a sentence before Lady Une had the chance to charge them.

Alexander's grave was sacred, and had been defiled. That was not going to go unpunished.

"ZECHS!" a hand hit his face, and he glared at Noin, refusing to put up a hand to touch his now flaming cheek.

"What the hell was that for, Noin?" She just glared at him, her hands planted on her hips and her head held to the side. She hadn't been this mad since the last get together Quatre Winner had had at his newest manor, and Maxwell put glue in her hair, gluing her hands to said hair for two days.

"Its been Five Days, Zechs, and you haven't left this damn hospital! What about all the Fires out there? What about me?" She tapped her foot, her chest heaving as she fought to control her temper, and all Zechs could ask himself was what he had ever seen in her, beyond her skill in a mobile suit. It certainly wasn't for her personality.

"He has no one, Noin, not one person on this planet that we have been able to find, and was buried alive. I am not going to let him wake up to nothing more than a hospital staff whos only job is to see him healthy and out of their doors. I found him, I saved him, he's my responsibility until he's well again." Zechs thought over that deceleration and made a face. He was talking about the Boy like he was a stray puppy.

Better not voice that thought again, or people would get the wrong idea. Noin just groaned and rolled her eyes, an action much better suited to her younger, more arrogant self. He had hoped that her time spent at Lake Victoria, both as a student and an instructor, would have knocked that out of her.

It seemed it had only increased it.

"Zechs, he's not your responsibility. Let the Hospital Staff do their job, and then social services will take over, if he's not too old for the system." she gave a disdainful look at the bed, her lip curling in disgust. His eyes narrowed, but he stayed quiet, and just thanked every god that had ever been that he'd ended it with her before it got too far. "You have a job, and I doubt that Lady Une is happy about you spending so much time away from your office. You remember your office, right? In the Preventors HQ? Where you volunteered to put out all those Fires, Agent Wind?" She'd always made fun of the code name he'd picked for himself.

"Look, Noin, I don't think its any of your concern what I do with my time. Une is very aware of my actions, and has given me time off for it, now if you would just let it go and go back to whatever you are supposed to be doing..."

A wild beeping noise cut off the argument, and a flood of nurses and doctors invaded the room, pushing the two out of the way and rushing towards the bed.

"Someone get a sedative!"

"We can't! We need him awake!"

"We won't get anything from him if he damages himself!"

Zechs' eyes widened as he watched them try to push the boy back onto his back, now sitting up and pulling frantically at the tube down his throat, until he succeeded in pulling it out, coughing and hacking at the sensation.

"Where." it was a hoarse croak, the nearest nurse rushing to help him sip at a glass of water she grabbed off the side table, "Where am I?" He stared around the room at the multitude of faces, his eyes wide and the scar on his forehead, the strangest shaped scar Zechs had ever seen, standing out in sharp relief against his skin.

"You are in the Preventors Hospital in Munich, sir. Take it easy, you were very severely injured. Can you tell me your name?"

The man thought for a moment, his eyes becoming wider and the heart rate monitor he was still attached to beeping out a louder and louder as he began to panic. He shook his head back and forth, his breath coming in rapid gasps, and he looked on the verge of a complete panic attack, something that Zechs didn't think would be a good thing in his current condition. Judging by the syringe a nurse was inching towards, the others seemed to agree.

So Zechs did the one thing he could think of, and stepped forward, reaching out and grabbed his hands, being careful of the IV lines, and squeezed, tight enough to get his attention.

"Calm down." It shouldn't have worked, by all means it shouldn't have had any effect at all, but as they stared at each other, his breathing began to calm and the monitors started slowing down, the high pitched beeping disappearing until silence filled the room again. "Good. That's very good."

"Who am I?"


	3. Chapter 3

"Hermione? Love, are you alright?" Ron Weasley stood outside the door of his girlfriend, now fiancee's, room, hoping that this time would be the time she answered him. But only silence greeted him, and an almost perfunctory turn of the door knob revealed it spelled shut, just like the last thirty times he'd tried.

He sighed, running his hand through his greasy hair, and turned away, heading back down the rickety stairs of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, resisting every urge to slam his hands into the walls as he passed.

They were falling apart. Without Harry, there was nothing to hold them together. Hermione was getting farther and farther away from him, even though she was only two doors down.

"Any change?" Charlie's voice cut through the air as Ron stepped into the sitting room, pushing a glass of Ogden's Best into his hand rather forcefully and guiding him into a seat before he stumbled. "She sent her tray back without so much as drinking the tea. Kretcher was quite upset." Since the Death of his "Little Master", and then Sirius receiving the kiss, Kretcher had gone mental trying to please everyone who had inherited the Black estate.

He was taking it as a personal affront that he couldn't tempt Hermione to eat or drink, no matter what he made for her.

"No. And She's spelled the door shut, I can't even tell if she's in there." He drank the Ogden's down, wincing a little at the burn in his stomach, before reaching for the bottle to refill it.

If he kept this up, he was going to be like Winky, but the alcohol was the only thing that made sense anymore. Even his brothers didn't know how much he was drinking, or they wouldn't be offering him the alcohol to calm him down.

There was silence in the room for a few moments, Charlie staring at him, deep in thought.

"Ron, you aren't going to like this thought, but please try and stay calm." Ron nodded and gripped his glass tightly, readying himself for whatever he was about to hear. "What if she's ISN'T in there? What if...what if she went to do something about Harry? What if..." He didn't get to finish before Ron was off his seat and heading back up the stairs, Charlie's words resounding in his head like a drum beat.

'She has to be there, she just has to be. She wouldn't leave, there's no way that anyone could save him. Harry is dead!' Ron had come to that painful realization, it was hard but he had accepted it and was trying to move on, but Hermione hadn't been able to take it since the news came out.

But certainly the smartest witch of their year wouldn't have done something so gigantically stupid as try and go through the Veil of Death, to save someone who was already dead?

When an Alohomora failed on the Door, Ron stepped back a few feet and made a sharp downwards motion, the spell coming out through gritted teeth. "Reducto!" It was simple, a fourth year spell, but it did the trick and broke through Hermione's ward and got him in.

He stared around, his wand held so tightly he could almost feel it bend in his hand, at an empty room, a room that hadn't been slept in at least two days.

Where the bloody hell had she gone?

"Blimey." Running steps pounded up the steps behind him, Charlie's solid weight slamming into his back a moment later as he failed to stop himself in time, joining his younger brother observing the room. Ron shoved him off, giving the other ginger a scowl, looking for any sort of clue that would tell him where Hermione had gone.

A thorough search of the room gave him his answer, a note stuck to the fan of all places. Hermione had been stuck in war mode since Harry disappeared, it made too much frightening sense for her to have hidden the note in one of the last places that anyone would have looked.

Even Ron.

It was on a single sheet of parchment, written in Hermione's neat scrawl, blots on it showing how she'd cried when she'd written it, just a single sheet saying goodbye.

Ron forced himself not to tear up as he read, knowing that he was alone. No one else who'd been through what he had was going to be around any more. He was going to have to deal with everything alone.

_Dear Ron,_

I know you will probably hate me when you are finished with this, and I honestly do not blame you, but this is something that I have to do. I love you Ronald, from the bottom of my heart, never doubt it, but I have to follow Harry.

He cannot go through this alone. From the moment Voldemort attacked Lily and James, Harry has been alone. Even with us by his side, even when he finally acclimated to the Wizarding World, Harry has always been alone. He's never been able to trust that people will not turn on him the moment something goes funny, even you and me. And now this. This, on top of everything else that has been thrown at him.

I can't let him go through this alone.

I did my research, there are books in the top drawer that will tell you what I've learned, they are password locked to Crookshanks by the way, and I know one simple thing.

Harry Potter, the boy that would have been, is dead. His body destroyed into the dust it would have been years before if not for Lily Potter's interference.

Our Harry however, the soul of the boy that we learned to love, who stood beside us no matter what stupid things we've done, and always accepted us how ever we are, is alive. He's alive, and he's alone.

And I can't stand it, Ronald, I just can't.

So, I'm leaving. They will find my body soon, where I cannot tell you, I know you will try and stop me, but if everything goes to plan I will be with Harry. And I have to take that chance.

Please tell your family that I am so thankful for everything they have done for me over the years, for accepting the little Muggle born girl who was too bossy for her own good, and that I will remember them for a life time.

I love you Ronald.

I am sorry.

Hermione

Ron put the note down, sat down on the bed that still smelled like Hermione, and wept, his brother standing over him, ever watchful.

He was alone.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Honestly Dumbledore, we do not have time to stand around here and wait. Ministry guards have already figured out your little ruse, they know you didn't leave after the trial." Lucius Malfoy never did anything without thinking it through. He knew, exactly, down the moment, what he would have to do to get what he wanted.

And, more than anything, here and now, he wanted out of this world. He'd trailed Remus Lupin, his long and unsavory association with Fenrir Grayback giving him the edge to stay unseen, though there had been a few close calls, and had managed to find out their little plan.

It was perfect for his needs, and he was determined that they were going to allow him to go with them.

"Be that as it may, Lucius, I do not understand what brings you here. You clearly have some idea of what we are planning," Lucius just nodded to confirm, hiding his smirk when Dumbledore sighed testily, "Harry Potter has never been a concern of yours, and after your son's death at his hand, I do not see why you are so...determined to accompany us." There was a look of Death in the soon to be ex-Headmaster's eyes, and Lucius knew that if he gave the wrong answer now, he was not going to be breathing for much longer.

He would have to step carefully here, after all he didn't always believe his own motives. How could he expect them to?

"I will not allow you to hurt him, Lucius. That boy has gone through enough, a lot of it at your own hand." It was a not so subtle barb at the Malfoy Lord's previous activities, but Lucius did not react. He would not lose his calm when he was so close to his goal.

"Albus, we don't have time for this. Either we take him or we don't. We can figure his motives out later." Lupin, who had moved closer to the door during their little discussion, looked back and gave them both a 'get moving' look.

It looked like Lucius' little bluff about the guards was not that far from the truth after all.

That made things even easier, and he could see the defeat in Dumbledore's eyes. Normally, it would take hours to convince Dumbledore of his true motives, and Lucius had been prepared to do that, but it looked like it wasn't going to be necessary.

At least not at the present time.

"Alright. But, Lucius?" Those eyes were back, and Lucius fought not to flinch. This was the Defeater of Grindlewald, the Light Lord that even Lord Voldemort was afraid to face in a one on one duel. Lucius was strong, but he knew that there was no way he would last more than an hour in a duel with Albus Wulfric Percivel Dumbledore, or however those names went. "If you try any of your normal tricks, it will be the last thing you do."

Since Cornelius Fudge's momentous mistake, the gentle, nice Albus Dumbledore was a thing of the past.

With that promise delivered, Dumbledore turned around and faced the veil, raising his arms as far up as he could, and speaking in a rolling voice that echoed through the room like a drum. It was an ancient language, a throwback to the times before Merlin, the power contained in merely saying the words causing the hairs at the back of Lucius' neck to rise in response. A quick look to the left, a mere glance out of the corner of his eye saw a blank look in Lupin's face.

He didn't recognize the language, and only Lucius' family history allowed him to know what it was. He had no idea what spell Dumbledore was saying, what Gods he was invoking to do his will, but he didn't want to know.

There was too much power in those words, it wasn't to be harnessed by normal wizards.

But the Veil, whatever the words meant, was reacting to that power, an eerie wind blowing through the chamber, causing Lucius' hair to fly from its normal ponytail and whip around his face. He didn't dare move, didn't dare try to contain it, to keep from interrupting the ritual.

That was the last thing he wanted to do.

"Go Now. I will close it behind you." Dumbledore's voice reverberated with power, his eyes not quite the blue that they were used to, and Lucius didn't wait, immediately moving and closing his eyes before he stepped through the veil.

And into a whirlwind of noise, chaos, and pain. Lucius kept his grip on his wand, and his sanity, hanging on to his purpose with a single minded intensity.

He had to survive this, he had to.

He may not have liked Harry Potter in the past, may have been one of his greatest enemies, but Lord Lucius Malfoy would not ignore his son's last, dying request, no matter how ridiculous and out of character he found it.

Harry Potter would survive, and he would thrive, no matter the body he found himself in.

Albus Dumbledore and Remus Lupin watched as Lucius stepped through the veil, Remus taking a deep breath before he stepped through himself.

Dumbledore nodded, about to lower his arms, when a bushy haired blur launched herself from behind one of the stone steps leading down from the main entrance of the room, a single minded intensity on her face as she lunged through the veil before Albus could get the a word of warning out.

Hermione Granger was gone, and all the Headmaster could do was close his eyes and step through the Veil himself, letting the power die behind him.

The veil was a one way street, after all, the girl had sealed her fate the moment she touched it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It had been three days since the strange boy had awoken, and hew as slowly regaining what remained of his senses, and the Doctors were prepared to question him again.

If they could get past the bodyguard that was Zechs Merquise. Since he'd brought the boy in, he was a constant presence in the room, eyeing every procedure, every test, and every question like there was something hinky going on with it.

And Doctor Mitchell was about tired of it. He'd brought it to the attention of his superior, railing at her about how much the agent was getting in the way of his treating his patient.

Only to be laughed at.

Doctor Sally Po, the head of the Preventor's Medical Corp and former Lieutenant in Oz, had thrown her head back and cackled until tears were rolling from her eyes and looked at him with amusement shining from her eyes.

"If you can convince him to leave, Trae, then you are a better person than I am. Zechs Merquise does not do anything he doesn't want to do. If he wants to protect this boy, for whatever reason, then that is exactly what he is going to do. Good luck getting him to change his mind." With that, and a sunny smile, she had gone back to her work and shooed him out, leaving him to fume as he made his way back down to his patients room.

As he walked into the John Doe's room, ready to fight and throw the blonde out, he came face to face with Ice blue eyes ready to kill.

"You are late. You were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago." His voice was cold, and Doctor Mitchell rethought his position on throwing the man out.

He didn't want to tangle with this man, he had the distinct feeling that it would no end well for him.

Personally or Professionally.

"I apologize, I had some things to take care of with another patient. But I'm all yours for the next hour." He forced himself to smile and shoulder his way into the room, a true smile coming to his face at the sight of his patient.

No matter how difficult treating him was, John Doe was in fact one of his favorite patients. The boy, late teens, early twenties, was nothing but polite and accommodating, the nurses were all in love with him and his big green eyes.

"How're we feeling today? Has the headache gone away?"

Memories had slowly been coming back over the last few days, but a name hadn't come back yet. Trae was hoping that they would find out soon.

This poor boy needed family at a time like this, being buried alive was a traumatic experience that only family and loved ones could help with.

"Yes Sir." Always, unfailing polite. "It hasn't hurt for hours yet. Mr. Merquise hasn't left, though I've told him that he doesn't need to stay."

"Good, that's really good." Trae was optimistic about today, maybe they would finally get the answers that they needed, and he was so buoyed by that thought that he didn't flinch as hard as he normally did when the Preventor came to stand over his shoulder, merely pulled out his penlight and turned it on, lifting John Doe's chin up and shining the light in them. When he was satisfied that the pupils were reacting normally, the concussion all but gone, he let him lay back again, and pulled a seat up by the bed.

"Now, same questions as always. What's your name?" His pen was poised over the chart, and he gave a sigh of relief with the look of confusion and anger didn't cross the boy's face like normal.

Just a bright smile.

"Yes!" He laughed, the only sound they hadn't heard from him since his stay here first began. The staff had heard him scream, cry with pain, curse, and a thousand emotions in between, but they'd never heard him laugh, and Trae felt more than honored to be the first to hear it. "My name is Harry James Potter!"

While Doctor Mitchell continued asking his questions, Zechs stepped towards the door, still keeping an eye on his newest charge, sending a quick email to Chang Wufei, thankful for the new technology Une demanded they carry at all times.

It only took a few minutes for the answer to get back to him, the other agent having been waiting for this particular message for days, and Zechs frowned as he stared at the answer, turning to look at the boy on the bed.

"Harry James Potter does not exist. No Henry James Potter, no variation of that name. The only thing close to it is a Harvard James Potter, but he is in his forties." he took a deep breath, trying to keep his temper under control. "Who are you really?"

The Boy calling himself Harry just blinked.


	4. Chapter 4

Chang Wufei listened to the conversation on the other side of the phone intently, typing away on his computer for everything he was worth. He'd almost bitten his tongue off when Zechs told the boy that no Harry James Potter existed, rattling off a list of people who did, but ignoring the long list that Wufei himself was looking at on his screen.

"Zechs! Even a four year old will see through that." Rolling his eyes, the Chinese Preventor tapped his fingers quickly on the desk, beating out a rhythm that had been stuck in his head for days.

"That's...that's not possible. I am Harry James Potter! My, my birthday is July 31st, 1980." The boy sounded terrified, and Wufei felt a twinge of sympathy for him as he typed in the information. Zechs could have been a little easier in his disbelief, especially given how much he'd cared for the boy over the last few days. The blond ex-OZ commander hadn't been around HQ since the boy had been found, in a grave of all things, and no one was talking about their connection. Lady Une had even formally sanctioned Duo for prying, and the braided pilot had done a lot worse before than asking about a sick kid.

"July 31st AC 180," He hummed to himself, correcting the boy's date automatically. Being in the hospital must have skewed his sense of time. A list of names popped up on the screen, not one of them being an sort of Harry James, Potter or otherwise.

'He's lying Zechs, we need more information.'

A series of clicks sounded over the line, a code the group had long ago thought out, and Wufei snarled.

'Zechs! I don't care! Either you probe him for more information, or we draw the blood. Like we should have days ago!'

The damn blond was more than stubborn when he put his mind to it, and Wufei doubted that even Releana could get him to change his mind on this subject.

Dammit. Why couldn't Heero have drawn this assignment? Computer hacking was his area of expertise, not Wufei's. But no, the perfect soldier had to be on the Romanav assignment.

Une owed him for this.

"Your Name isn't Harry James Potter. There is no reason to lie, who ever is searching for you can't find you here." Zechs kept his voice soothing, but with an undercurrent of steel. It was alright to be afraid, especially given the boys situation, but it wasn't alright for him to keep lying.

They had to know the truth if they were ever going to find the bastards that did this, who buried a helpless boy in a long sealed grave, and desecrated Alexander's final resting place.

That was the part that Zechs could never forgive or forget.

"YES, IT IS! I don't know what you want from me! My name is Harry James Potter, I was born July 31st in 1980! I don't know what trick Fudge is playing, but you can contact my Aunt Petunia Dursley, I'm sure she'll tell you I exist, even if she hates my guts." There was a note to the boy's voice, along with the blond hair bringing a pang to Zechs heart and flashes of a little blond haired boy slamming into him and grinning, hugging a smaller Zechs tight around his waist.

Those memories always made Zechs angry, and he could only blame that anger for what he did next, no matter how much it disgusted him later.

The blonde preventor took two steps towards the bed, looming over the figure, and grabbed his arm in a punishing grip.

"Tell. Me. The. Truth." His grip tightened with every word, the boy's lips turning white from pressing them together to keep from crying out his pain, but he met Zech's eyes head on, a core of steel in them that would look more at home in one of the Gundam Pilots than in the eyes of a boy who had the sad circumstances of being the victim of such a horrible crime.

"I. Am." He met Zech's tone exactly, glaring with green eyes that seemed to pierce right through the large Preventor. Zechs gave his arm a sharp shake, tightening his grip, and the monitors behind him went wild as the boy's heart rate picked up, though he never moved his eyes away from Zechs, with the feel of a man well used to rougher treatment than what he was receiving.

"Agent Wind! Let go of my patient!" The Doctor, previously cowering in the corner from the volatile ranger, gathered his courage, and stepped forward, he was not going to stand by and see his favorite patient threatened, especially by the person who'd been by his side since he stepped into the hospital. "If you don't do as I say, I will have you escorted off the premises." He puffed his chest up, and tried to look as intimidating as possible.

Zechs just snarled, his anger taking him far beyond his normal personality, and shook the arm he held. This, was the Lightening Count, and he would get the information he wanted.

"Let go of the Boy, Agent Wind, and step away."

The room froze as the woman's voice filled the space, and Zechs froze, dropping the pale arm he held like it had been hit with lightening, and faced his superior.

Lady Une was not happy. She considered herself a fair leader, and she knew that she had done many things in the past that were wrong, even cruel, but she gritted her teeth in anger at the scene she came upon when she entered the John Doe's hospital room. When she got the call from Wufei, telling her that someone had to reign Zechs in before he did something 'beyond his normal ignorance', in the Chinese Teen's words, she had thought he was threatening a doctor again, or flirting with a nurse at the most.

She would never have expected to see him threatening, and harming, the boy he'd been so protective of since he pulled him out Alexander's grave. Une had never managed to make herself come to visit, the memory of her brother too close to her heart, but she could understand why Zechs had devoted himself to this unknown boy.

"Sorry, Lady, but he refuses to tell the truth! We have triple checked the information, and there is no way that he is who he says he is." There is an undercurrent of anger to Zechs voice, a bone deep rage that warns of a pending explosion, but Une refused to let herself be cowed by it, and fixed her subordinate with a glare hot enough to melt lead.

"Then we will draw blood, Agent Wind. You are dismissed." The blond sputtered for a few moments, blushing red from embarrassment, before stalking from the room with all the haughty pride his ancestry demanded, leaving the boy to fall back against the pillows, his chest heaving.

"Are you alright?" Lady Une stepped up to the bed, her heart pounding as she let herself take in his features. 'Oh Alexander. Is this what you would have looked like?' She missed her brother terribly, her parents having moved far into the country, living in seclusion even throughout the War from the grief of losing them, and this boy with the same hair and the same bright green eyes cut straight through to her heart. She could see with certainty why Zechs had attached himself to the boy without leaving.

"I'm fine, thank you." He met her stare with a cool one of his own, only his heaving chest showing that he had been affected by the rough treatment, and waited calmly for whatever judgement she would see fit to hand down.

"Doctor, will you please draw some blood from the patient, and see that the sample makes it down to the labs? Sally Po is waiting on it." Without another word, struggling with the ghosts of her past, she turned and walked away.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Where are we?" Hermione sat up shakily, putting a hand to her head, willing her stomach to calm down. The others were strewn on the tile floor around her, only Lucius Malfoy stirring, forcing himself into a sitting position. The two of them proceeded to ignore the other's existence, instead choosing to examine their surroundings or check on their comrades.

"Headmaster, wake up. Please, wake up!" Hermione shook her mentor frantically, panic filling her until he gave a low moan and opened his eyes. She hurriedly placed his glasses on his nose, scooting backwards so that he could stand to his feet. Now that he was awake, the old wizard seemed in much better shape than the rest of their group, especially Remus, who was emptying his stomach pitifully in the corner.

"I had not intended on landing here, but, we must make of it what we can." The headmaster walked calmly around the room, examining the many monitors and switches that covered the walls, along with the doors that were placed at sporadic intervals along the smooth surface.

Hermione blinked. "It looks like a meeting room of some kind. Whatever reality Harry was truly from, it is a significantly more advanced one than our own." She walked towards what looked like a small silver panel, and poked it experimentally with a finger. In hindsight, it probably wasn't the smartest thing she could have ever done. The door closest to her slid open smoothly, and she eeped as a silver barrel was aimed between her eyes, the owner's cold blue eyes staring at her coolly.

"Who are you, and how did you get in here?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s chapter five, as it has been almost two years since I last worked on this story, things may seem a little odd as I try to figure out what in the name of Ares I was planning with it.

“Sally? Have the results come back yet?” Une paced the room behind her friend, forcing herself not to hover as much as she was able. It had been hours since she the sample had been delivered, and she had not been able to stay away. 

Could it really be him? It couldn’t be, she knew that logically her brother was dead, had been murdered before he truly had a chance to live, but her heart couldn’t help but hope. 

“No, Lady, not yet. I had no choice but to run them again, the original results were...extremely strange.” Une froze, marching over to stand over Sally’s shoulder. She had no medical training, to be honest the inner workings of the lab was something that she never wanted to to understand.

“Strange how, Sally? I watched the blood drawn myself, no one had any time to tamper with it.” Sally turned on her stool and looked up, absently brushing a strand of hair out of her face. 

“Lady, if I knew, I would tell you, but I honestly don’t know. The DNA is....unlike any I have ever seen before. The normal bits are there but there are....extras, that I can’t figure out.” 

“Extras? How can there be extras?” Sally frowned. 

“Didn’t I just tell you that I don’t know? But, I can say with about 90 percent surety, that our little mystery guest is related to you.” 

Une felt her heart stop in her chest. 

“He is Alexander?” He couldn’t be, he just couldn’t be. She had watched him die, she had mourned him for years, he couldn’t have been hidden for that long. It was impossible. 

Wasn’t it?

“I can’t say that, Lady, but he does share certain similarities with you. I may know more once I figure out what the extras are.” 

Lady Une didn’t wait to hear more, marching down the hall of Preventors HQ with purpose to her stride. 

If that was her brother, even if it wasn’t Alexander, she was going to be by his side. 

She wouldn’t let him die, not again. Not if she could help it. 

“Lady Une? Agent Wing is on the radio for you.” A terrified operative dared to stop her as she was heading for the exit, flinching back but refusing to move when she glared at him with everything that she had. “He says it is urgent.” 

Une was torn. Heero was her most pain in the ass agent, but he never contacted her unless he had absolutely no other option. It made him both the best and the worst on her payroll.

“Tell him I will be there directly, but that if this isn’t worth my time he will be on the President’s protection detail for a month.” The agent nodded and quickly ran off, Une smirking after him at his speed. She wasn't sure if he was more frightened of her or of the Terrorist turned Peace Officer, either way it was a welcome spot of amusement in her otherwise bleak day. 

At least with Heero, she knew that things would be over with quickly and she could get back to her brother's side. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hermione took a deep breath and tightened her fist, ready to retaliate to any move these...officers may make towards her (rather unorthodox) companions. Why Lucius Malfoy was one of them, she didn't understand, but nothing had truly made sense in the weeks since Harry’s execution. The Muggleborn witch wished that she had been able to convince Harry to leave all those years ago, to go back to the muggle world and forget that the danger and ruthlessness of the Wizarding World had ever existed, wished that she had tried just a little bit harder to save the boy that had become closer to her than a brother of her own blood. 

Maybe he wouldn't have been killed, murdered, for something that wasn't his fault just as he was starting to get his life back under his control.

”What ever weapon you are considering using, I suggest that you do not.” Hermione blinked and turned towards the teenager standing against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and an almost amused look on his face. He looked her age, maybe a few years younger, and most would pass him off as a non threat. 

Hermione wasn’t called the smartest witch of her year for nothing, and she knew better than most that age was just a number. She had been underestimated by many due to her age, and she would not make the same mistake. 

The Asian teen was dangerous, and he would not hesitate to attack if she gave him a reason to. 

”We will not attack you, my boy. You have my word.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes at the Headmaster’s words, knowing that the other teen would not take kindly to being called a boy. He carried himself as a warrior, even lounged against the wall like he was, and the Headmaster would be a fool to ignore that. Hermione was almost certain that he would anyway. Long ago, she would have accepted his every word without hesitation, but time had pulled the blinders from her eyes. He was a man, a Great Man to be sure, but still as fallible as everyone else. 

”Your word means nothing here, sir. I know nothing of you, nor of your motives. I am not one of your children, and I will stop you if you try anything.” He spoke without moving from his position against the wall, but the threat was coming off of him in waves. Even the Headmaster took a half step backwards, a reflex that he seemed surprised he couldn’t control.

”I would watch my words if I were you, Albus. You of all people should know appearances can be deceiving.” Malfoy spoke from his chair, eyeing the room like he owned it, a smirk on his face. Hermione resisted the urge to smack it off of him with effort. He had taken the seat when they were first ushered into the room, refraining from commenting on their obviously muggle surroundings though she could see the disgust on his face. “After all, did you not train young Mr. Potter to win your war in your place?” 

Their observer tensed up minutely at the blond’s words, and Hermione snapped her attention back to him in an instant. He was obviously the biggest threat in the room, she had taken Lucius Malfoy on several times and dueled him to a standstill during the war, he was the least of her worries. 

”Harry knew what was at stake, Lucius. I did not use him to ‘win the war’ out of choice. Your Master made that decision for us all.” The Headmaster’s voice rolled through the room, bringing power and anger with it, reminding all who heard it that he was not the doddering old man that he liked to act. Malfoy just shrugged his shoulders, unimpressed. He had dealt with the temper tantrums of powerful wizards all of his life, rising to the bait only encouraged them. 

”Harry Potter? Do you mean Harry James Potter?” Hermione was in front of the other teen before she registered her body moving, thoughts of the three wizards behind her flying for her mind as she chased the only lead on her brother that she had. He had to be alright, he just had to. 

”Is he alright? Where is he? Please tell me he’s alive.” She reached for the front of his uniform, not knowing if she was going to shake him or if she was just reaching for something solid in a world that was falling out from under her, but she never made contact. Just before her hands touched the fabric her right wrist was grabbed in an iron grip and she found herself on the floor. Her shoulder was screaming in pain as it was wrenched behind her, her face aching from where she had collided with the cold floor underneath her, but she didn’t care. 

He knew Harry. He knew the name, he knew where her brother was. That was all that mattered. 

”Wing, tell Une to hurry. They know about Wind’s Mystery.” 

Hermione paid no attention to the screaming and yelling that was going on over her, added voices rising and falling until everything was quiet and she was lifted up off the floor. Her arm had long ago grown numb to the pain, though she knew that as soon as she attempted to move it it would come roaring back. If her assailant wanted her dead or disabled, she had no doubts that she would be. All that mattered was that he knew Harry. Maybe, just maybe, they would let her see him before she told them everything that she knew. Nothing, not even the Statute of Secrecy, mattered over seeing Harry. 

Not when she was this close.


End file.
